tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86872536982194203932017-12-13T15:56:54.552-08:00Kate LochnerMental health | Motherhood | Living a balanced lifeKate Lochnernoreply@blogger.comBlogger356125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-71250401418289857922017-12-08T13:19:00.003-08:002017-12-08T13:19:41.970-08:00Chaos and Clorox wipesEarlier this week, the kids were watching a movie. It was the late afternoon, and the 3 pm caffeine crash was hitting hard. Archie was a couple blinks away from falling asleep, so I went into my room for a couple minutes of quiet. Shortly after, Ella followed. Before she had a chance to say anything I said, "Momma's just a little tired, I'm coming right back out." She responds, "you can come rest next to Archie on the couch. Come on. Follow me." She lead me to the couch and said, "here you can have my spot" and went to the coffee table.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F8pq19jRlWA/WisBOlUow2I/AAAAAAAAFUg/LIgKhU5C8bohI-5njsTzgpx7p9H6t54_gCLcBGAs/s1600/chaos%2Band%2Bclorox%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="784" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F8pq19jRlWA/WisBOlUow2I/AAAAAAAAFUg/LIgKhU5C8bohI-5njsTzgpx7p9H6t54_gCLcBGAs/s640/chaos%2Band%2Bclorox%2B1.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My girl.</td></tr></tbody></table>It's been a long week around here—managing the meal plans, diffusing fights, cleaning up spilled hot chocolate, discussing plans for 2018. Every time the kids ate, the kitchen looked like the whole thing needed to be cloroxed. Again. That's okay. Ella, though she has her own growing pains, never fails to look out for her momma.<br /><br />The chaos, the endless supply of Clorox wipes, it's all worth it. Even though my oldest is almost 4, I'm only now feeling like I'm beginning to find myself as a stay-at-home mom. And I'm thankful to be spending this time with my kids. They're pretty great. (Even if my 2-year-old insists on throwing the Christmas ornaments at me.)<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zl6V4dQin4c/WisBVJQIbGI/AAAAAAAAFUk/vnrhos1rSz45wKFHQFEDunkMyv_i0SgNgCLcBGAs/s1600/chaos%2Band%2Bclorox%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="588" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zl6V4dQin4c/WisBVJQIbGI/AAAAAAAAFUk/vnrhos1rSz45wKFHQFEDunkMyv_i0SgNgCLcBGAs/s640/chaos%2Band%2Bclorox%2B2.jpg" width="358" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Batgirl is protective of her muffin.&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wRKIwKsRwDA/WisBVGsGAcI/AAAAAAAAFUo/nKOLTfZEyq0Isym2Ui8Pb83It9olhpZmQCLcBGAs/s1600/chaos%2Band%2Bclorox%2B3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="1395" height="478" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wRKIwKsRwDA/WisBVGsGAcI/AAAAAAAAFUo/nKOLTfZEyq0Isym2Ui8Pb83It9olhpZmQCLcBGAs/s640/chaos%2Band%2Bclorox%2B3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had a hot chocolate and muffin 'tea party'.&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l0zmM7atUto/WisBVCXs82I/AAAAAAAAFUs/vr6PsbOg2Y0_-F-D6GeQ3Kw21FhTaTwHACLcBGAs/s1600/chaos%2Band%2Bclorox%2B4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="784" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l0zmM7atUto/WisBVCXs82I/AAAAAAAAFUs/vr6PsbOg2Y0_-F-D6GeQ3Kw21FhTaTwHACLcBGAs/s640/chaos%2Band%2Bclorox%2B4.jpg" width="478" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5_VwlMWgcTU/WisBVsvGrUI/AAAAAAAAFUw/-rHbwsRB1_c0epe2xhanhLiSWslvliTjwCLcBGAs/s1600/chaos%2Band%2Bclorox%2B5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="588" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5_VwlMWgcTU/WisBVsvGrUI/AAAAAAAAFUw/-rHbwsRB1_c0epe2xhanhLiSWslvliTjwCLcBGAs/s640/chaos%2Band%2Bclorox%2B5.jpg" width="358" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_9ntX925Sfg/WisBV-9FbHI/AAAAAAAAFU0/1CYMMznpeTgjxl3ADGytv_h9kQYPhMsqACLcBGAs/s1600/chaos%2Band%2Bclorox%2B6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="784" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_9ntX925Sfg/WisBV-9FbHI/AAAAAAAAFU0/1CYMMznpeTgjxl3ADGytv_h9kQYPhMsqACLcBGAs/s640/chaos%2Band%2Bclorox%2B6.jpg" width="478" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hnbQKXezECg/WisBWTdc8WI/AAAAAAAAFU4/rkJZMZ1YiD8Jj0rrAMWv8AL_-bOkB1QbACLcBGAs/s1600/chaos%2Band%2Bclorox%2B7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="784" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hnbQKXezECg/WisBWTdc8WI/AAAAAAAAFU4/rkJZMZ1YiD8Jj0rrAMWv8AL_-bOkB1QbACLcBGAs/s640/chaos%2Band%2Bclorox%2B7.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-43957667354021880542017-12-04T08:03:00.001-08:002017-12-04T08:03:13.776-08:00From the weekend—Progress & Perfection<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jaqRgwgc0Wo/WiVwGsPQEDI/AAAAAAAAFTQ/g8Xlh_fE-5AptNsKDENNSrlwycGqZHXYQCLcBGAs/s1600/zoo%2Blights%2B3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="868" data-original-width="1157" height="480" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jaqRgwgc0Wo/WiVwGsPQEDI/AAAAAAAAFTQ/g8Xlh_fE-5AptNsKDENNSrlwycGqZHXYQCLcBGAs/s640/zoo%2Blights%2B3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I'm a big believer in things happening for a reason—we face trials or undergo certain circumstances<br />to teach us a lesson (or 5). While these past couple months have been entirely inconvenient and expensive and painful, I'm grateful for the opportunity to appreciate outings with my family through a new lens. It's amazing how much effort it took just to go to the doctors while I was still in a brace and on crutches, so to be able to walk through a downtown area holding my kids' hands felt freeing.<br /><br />This weekend was the best my knee has felt since before my injury, so having a full weekend of plans was especially exciting. A family date night on Friday followed by a full Saturday of visiting with a couple loved ones and having friends over for a game night. Church, football, and an evening at the zoo on Sunday.<br /><br />This Sunday was the first Sunday of Advent, so while I've begun to be tempted to go, go, go, I ended my weekend in silence over a spiritual read and in thankful prayer. The arrival of Advent is the perfect reminder to not rush through this season just because I can, but to force myself to be still in prayer and gratitude.&nbsp; <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V4cxZIO9t20/WiVwFjttl8I/AAAAAAAAFTA/uFjWPdcLCRcx_awLgncygj0YOzm8fQjqACEwYBhgL/s1600/ella.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="693" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V4cxZIO9t20/WiVwFjttl8I/AAAAAAAAFTA/uFjWPdcLCRcx_awLgncygj0YOzm8fQjqACEwYBhgL/s640/ella.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-irLNjJh8pTw/WiVwFo_PemI/AAAAAAAAFS8/dnUkTkqJnxsBGBLsWFtVuTAm5G-4FtSowCEwYBhgL/s1600/ella%2Bdecorating%2Btree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="693" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-irLNjJh8pTw/WiVwFo_PemI/AAAAAAAAFS8/dnUkTkqJnxsBGBLsWFtVuTAm5G-4FtSowCEwYBhgL/s640/ella%2Bdecorating%2Btree.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's quite the decorator!</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8Pf8GHJMdGQ/WiVwFvq-b9I/AAAAAAAAFTE/1s9AijqZT6YKDMuT7cI37i4T0aUgrI8swCEwYBhgL/s1600/archer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="693" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8Pf8GHJMdGQ/WiVwFvq-b9I/AAAAAAAAFTE/1s9AijqZT6YKDMuT7cI37i4T0aUgrI8swCEwYBhgL/s640/archer.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A boy and his cookie. There is no greater love.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zOzKwhDT-Wk/WiVwG5S3RsI/AAAAAAAAFTU/zbfXKTpbMPUprrD23vrg9uWvoXE3mk9OwCEwYBhgL/s1600/zoo%2Blights%2B4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="868" data-original-width="1157" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zOzKwhDT-Wk/WiVwG5S3RsI/AAAAAAAAFTU/zbfXKTpbMPUprrD23vrg9uWvoXE3mk9OwCEwYBhgL/s640/zoo%2Blights%2B4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He was so content on my lap for minutes and minutes...until the camera came out. We snapped a picture anyway!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--_apCNz4pJA/WiVwGvRjaSI/AAAAAAAAFTM/h5FcC5y_KycFpH09qFXY7m6ZQMbjIh1MACEwYBhgL/s1600/zoo%2Blights%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="693" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--_apCNz4pJA/WiVwGvRjaSI/AAAAAAAAFTM/h5FcC5y_KycFpH09qFXY7m6ZQMbjIh1MACEwYBhgL/s640/zoo%2Blights%2B2.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what trying to get a family picture really looks like.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Nl2ydFnuQNM/WiVwHL8no2I/AAAAAAAAFTY/C9qZIsCj36sV3FbWx0jqEo5HZGul3h7YgCEwYBhgL/s1600/zoo%2Blights%2B5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="868" data-original-width="1157" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Nl2ydFnuQNM/WiVwHL8no2I/AAAAAAAAFTY/C9qZIsCj36sV3FbWx0jqEo5HZGul3h7YgCEwYBhgL/s640/zoo%2Blights%2B5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zoo lights delivered!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0l7VMJOrX1s/WiVwGf4nCcI/AAAAAAAAFTI/xtfAgmfMrpIPjW2U2mCmooA6SFJVkWfHwCEwYBhgL/s1600/zoo%2Blights%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="868" data-original-width="1157" height="480" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0l7VMJOrX1s/WiVwGf4nCcI/AAAAAAAAFTI/xtfAgmfMrpIPjW2U2mCmooA6SFJVkWfHwCEwYBhgL/s640/zoo%2Blights%2B1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:)</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-42048566309852734752017-11-17T09:42:00.000-08:002017-11-17T09:44:02.119-08:00Pain, gratitude, and 6 weeks post-op<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6s5uzy-NzvA/Wg8fS60NBoI/AAAAAAAAFQ0/SP2fkWOevU4JuI4APSZ_Wbn5x0p_9dfPACLcBGAs/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="714" data-original-width="536" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6s5uzy-NzvA/Wg8fS60NBoI/AAAAAAAAFQ0/SP2fkWOevU4JuI4APSZ_Wbn5x0p_9dfPACLcBGAs/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />At my first post-op appointment, I was handed a survey, and the questions surprised me. The survey, of course, had the usual, expected questions: <i>On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate your pain? How much has your pain affected social activities, house work</i>, etc., etc. But the majority of the questions dealt with mental health. <i>Have you felt like a failure? Depressed? </i>You're handed the survey at every post-op appointment—to track progress, I guess. The first time I answered the questions, I was okay, really. (I've learned to be 100% honest with those types of questions, despite the discomfort). The first week after surgery, I was too focused on the physical challenges and pain to think about how I was being mentally. But the next time I filled out the survey, at 3 weeks post-op, I noticed my answers starting to inch toward what could eventually turn into a depression diagnosis. Or, more accurately, flare-up.<br /><br />I've never had an injury that's kept me off my feet for 6-8 weeks, so I had no way of preparing myself for how it could impact my mental health. What was coming? I had no idea. But now having gone through it, I know taking care of mental health during recovery is as important as going to physical therapy for the injury. I missed one of my best friend's weddings, one I was supposed to stand up in as a bridesmaid, 'cause of the surgery. Another friend from my old job was getting married that weekend. And following the blood clot diagnosis, the possibility of having to cancel our trip to Alaska over Thanksgiving became clear.<i>&nbsp;Does it ever end?</i>&nbsp;Tim and I asked. <i><a href="https://kelochner.blogspot.com/2016/12/so-you-think-youre-gonna-settle-eh.html">Can't we just have one smooth-sailing year?</a></i>&nbsp;And, when by myself, I've felt sad, angry, disappointed, and guilty.<br /><br />Since the last week of September, I've spent a decent amount of time around people in pain - I've heard people vomit in emergency rooms. I've rolled past nervous family members in waiting rooms. I've witnessed a whole slew of people in pre-op, waiting for their doctors to work their magic so they don't need to see the likes of another operating room. I've crutched past people who were vocally struggling to get one leg behind the other in physical therapy. I've moved my crutches out of the way for people as they limped to get their labs done. And I've waited to see the hematologist oncologist as women with headscarves and somber faces waited for the elevator.&nbsp; And every time I've found myself among their company, I couldn't help but wonder about their prognosis.<br /><br />I've begun to ditch my crutches. My right leg is slowly learning how to walk again. I made dinner this week. I baked muffins this morning. My kids, for the first time in 2 months, will be home with me on Monday. With time, I'll be able to carry loads of laundry up and down stairs without a second thought. Life is getting back to "normal" (whatever that means anymore). So there is a beaming light at the end of the tunnel for me, a light that I'm not sure is shining for all the people I've come across over the last 7 weeks.<br /><br />After trying to gain a few solid coping mechanisms throughout these past couple months, I'm here to report I've found...none. I know that thinking someone else's suffering is worse than yours isn't the healthiest way to deal with your own battle. <i>Just because someone has it worse, doesn't mean you're not hurting </i>my husband always tells me. It's important to acknowledge whatever you're dealing with and to properly work through it, and saying <i>it's not as bad as x, y, or z </i>is not the proper way. But I haven't known any other way to get through these last weeks except to be grateful that my injury is only temporary. And to think (and to often be visually reminded) that so many others have it..worse. How could I not just be grateful that there is at least an end in sight?<br /><br />The other night in physical therapy, there was a woman being treated after three consecutive injuries. She was there for another. I sat there with the heat pack on my knee, and just thought if you're not one of these people in and out of hospitals, waiting, questioning, hurting, you're one of the lucky ones. It's really amazed me, over the past couple months, how many people are in pain, how that life of in and out of doctors and hospitals is their "normal". I eventually couldn't help but feel guilty after becoming frustrated I wasn't able to walk.<br /><br />It's an unfortunate part of life—that we take for granted so much that is in front of us. Our health, our family, our spouse, our friends. Because as the saying goes, it can all be gone in an instant. This is not to end the week before Thanksgiving on a Negative Nancy low note, quite the opposite, actually. I'm so grateful for my health and family in this moment, that I felt compelled to put it out there to the Universe that you should be grateful for yours, too.Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-58928154665838733992017-10-30T11:24:00.000-07:002017-10-30T11:25:14.184-07:00From the weekend—Pumpkin carving and progress<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zktEfOTVWbU/WfdtQJKyxaI/AAAAAAAAFPs/aRrrDmZZZKgbuaVNzsYBtO-GH3nkftVNQCLcBGAs/s1600/pumpkin%2Bcarving%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="795" data-original-width="1059" height="478" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zktEfOTVWbU/WfdtQJKyxaI/AAAAAAAAFPs/aRrrDmZZZKgbuaVNzsYBtO-GH3nkftVNQCLcBGAs/s640/pumpkin%2Bcarving%2B2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>I've reached a turning point in my recovery. Even with the little physical therapy I've had, I'm able to move around more freely and with less pain. So I'm more eager to get out where as before I almost hid in my apartment because it was so uncomfortable to be out of my own bed. I'm grateful, because Halloween is upon us. We were able to get out and carve pumpkins with the kids this weekend. I don't know how I've gone all my life without carving a pumpkin, but I have. So I carved my first pumpkin (while balancing on one leg) and the kids had a great time eating more cookies than they should have.<br /><div><br /></div><div>As I head into the last 2.5 weeks of being on crutches, I'm taking the time to tie up loose ends -- pay bills, close in on refinancing a student loan, schedule appointments for the upcoming year, budget, etc. I'm laid up most of each day, but at least these last few weeks I'll be productive. Thank God, because my productivity levels have been severely low as of late.</div><div><br /></div><div>(Also, 55 days till Christmas.)&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FhPkSwQrzkY/WfdtQsac_nI/AAAAAAAAFP0/e87_VONtbH4ZPGwx8fubwtIgG-jTOE8IACEwYBhgL/s1600/pumpkin%2Bcarving1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="794" data-original-width="596" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FhPkSwQrzkY/WfdtQsac_nI/AAAAAAAAFP0/e87_VONtbH4ZPGwx8fubwtIgG-jTOE8IACEwYBhgL/s640/pumpkin%2Bcarving1.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OtoZXwpgRa4/WfdtQB5wWqI/AAAAAAAAFPo/0FE-eEQsP1AlUKsRB_mQfJxx-99pDQp8gCEwYBhgL/s1600/pumpkin%2Bcarving%2B3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="795" data-original-width="1059" height="478" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OtoZXwpgRa4/WfdtQB5wWqI/AAAAAAAAFPo/0FE-eEQsP1AlUKsRB_mQfJxx-99pDQp8gCEwYBhgL/s640/pumpkin%2Bcarving%2B3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PF3FVGobmPg/WfdtQDBwy1I/AAAAAAAAFPw/6mWmnVR0xSIIN8_9Mb3svh-T09TQlD0-ACEwYBhgL/s1600/pumpkin%2Bcarving%2B4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="795" data-original-width="1059" height="478" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PF3FVGobmPg/WfdtQDBwy1I/AAAAAAAAFPw/6mWmnVR0xSIIN8_9Mb3svh-T09TQlD0-ACEwYBhgL/s640/pumpkin%2Bcarving%2B4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /><div><br /></div></div>Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-28093178480296852642017-10-25T09:10:00.000-07:002017-10-25T09:14:16.333-07:00Accountability on social media <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QAE5R4Mfd0M/WfC4KohhkOI/AAAAAAAAFPQ/kYqEFYjl-ncyq-dmE8_GtlWAOIDK-JuwwCLcBGAs/s1600/unnamed.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="794" data-original-width="447" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QAE5R4Mfd0M/WfC4KohhkOI/AAAAAAAAFPQ/kYqEFYjl-ncyq-dmE8_GtlWAOIDK-JuwwCLcBGAs/s400/unnamed.png" width="225" /></a></div><br />I recently posted a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pg/kelochner/videos/?ref=page_internal">video</a>&nbsp;explaining my current frustration with Facebook, how 9.5 times out of 10, I leave Facebook wanting to, once again, delete my account. The feedback I received was very useful (thank you!), and, after reading the comments, I took some time to clean up my profile. I "unliked", "unfollowed", and "unfriended" taking nothing into consideration except my mental health. I made my profile private in an effort to eliminate any potential chaos from arising on my personal page.<br /><br />It was looking better already.<br /><br />John Mayer? I don't even listen to his music. Game of Thrones? I don't even watch the show. Verizon? We have AT&amp;T. Huffpost Politics? Yeah, no thanks. I "unliked" almost every news organization except <i>World News Tonight With David Muir</i>, 'cause he's my man. I made a list of outlets I like to follow, but that I didn't want to overpower my newsfeed (as news outlets are notorious for doing), bookmarked them, and made sure I was following them on Twitter --&nbsp;<i>Business Outsider,&nbsp;</i><i>The Atlantic,&nbsp;</i><i>The New Yorker,&nbsp;</i><i>Poynter,&nbsp;</i><i>Columbia Journalism Review. </i>I like following these guys, but I don't want to see a plethora of in-depth articles on Trump's Twitter Politics while I'm trying to look at a friend's engagement pictures.<br /><br />At the end of the day, unless they up and rid Facebook of the "friends" list, Facebook will always, always be connection and "friend" based more than interest-based. And because it is connection based is why I had "liked" so many pages. A friend of a friend, or an acquaintance, or a co-worker would invite me to "like" their brother, sister, daughter's pages that I end up shallowly "supporting" 300 causes I'm not the least bit interested in. I know it makes sense; I've done it, too. We're all tapping into our built-in network.<br /><br />I've grown my liking for Instagram and Twitter, because I enjoy connecting with people through those platforms. It's not weird if another mom messages me or a coffee shop re-posts my picture because...that's kind of what happens on those platforms - respecting the context and all that. It doesn't feel invasive or weird or annoying. Though Facebook has made strides in becoming more business-friendly for marketers (which was super nice as a former social-media marketer) I don't think it's come without annoyance to Facebook's users. Because now? Now we get to hear all about Auntie Judith's unwavering support for the Far Right right underneath seeing an ad for...receiving clothes in a box. (I like my clothes just fine, thanks.)<br /><br />The most important lesson I took away from people's feedback is my world on social requires management. In my mind, I wanted my presence online to be convenient and easy. As someone who was around during the pre-Facebook era, I didn't see the whole Facebook thing worthy of management, 'cause it's just...Facebook. Like I said, convenience. But times are changing.<br /><br />One thing is for sure. I'm not going to let Facebook affect my mental health in a negative way. And I'm happy to report that since I took time to give my profile a little TLC, I haven't left FB once wanting to delete my account. Lesson learned, folks. I will be adopting this as a regular practice. Thanks for your feedback, friends!Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-48887223016768555422017-10-23T06:47:00.001-07:002017-10-23T07:27:08.664-07:00From the weekend—Crutchin' in the park <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gaFH3GNbGiI/We3shnx4dTI/AAAAAAAAFOQ/lhnMwfg2kzQAEEGwkkiq_y2haX38AHjMwCLcBGAs/s1600/22752508_10215234733367994_352128693_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gaFH3GNbGiI/We3shnx4dTI/AAAAAAAAFOQ/lhnMwfg2kzQAEEGwkkiq_y2haX38AHjMwCLcBGAs/s640/22752508_10215234733367994_352128693_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />It feels good to sit down and do something normal. I haven't revived any part of my routine since the last week of September when I injured my knee. So it feels good.<br /><br />This weekend felt the same. I hadn't been out on a weekend in a few weeks, and considering it was sunny and 73, it was the perfect time to get out with the kids before we welcome that early winter weather. We drove out to a park, not without first picking up donuts, played, fed the ducks, and enjoyed the fall scenery.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q_9K2zmbJww/We3siSKGAVI/AAAAAAAAFOg/kZrHNQx4gCcFuBhJ1QQuy94UYGjloFPPQCEwYBhgL/s1600/22782350_10215234304997285_1584263444_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Q_9K2zmbJww/We3siSKGAVI/AAAAAAAAFOg/kZrHNQx4gCcFuBhJ1QQuy94UYGjloFPPQCEwYBhgL/s640/22782350_10215234304997285_1584263444_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fXtFYBhukmM/We3szFS73tI/AAAAAAAAFOs/ALBMTSO74XgdWkjouLWvaSwD2UXoFR00QCLcBGAs/s1600/22752650_10215234304637276_1054716856_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fXtFYBhukmM/We3szFS73tI/AAAAAAAAFOs/ALBMTSO74XgdWkjouLWvaSwD2UXoFR00QCLcBGAs/s640/22752650_10215234304637276_1054716856_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The tell tale sign you're a tax-paying adult is you enjoy driving around different neighborhoods looking at houses. We had previously zeroed in on a neighborhood we were going to buy in, but our plans changed at the end of last year. Now, the possibilities are wide open, and we don't yet know where we're going to settle. And I'm okay with that right now. This neighborhood had a killer park, charming houses, and streets lined with brilliant trees. So the camera came out.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fYaicM1_KTA/We3si756Q9I/AAAAAAAAFOk/3owgnWB307gSfBcMb2kLEgbvt3c7Xc25QCEwYBhgL/s1600/22809780_10215234304677277_1859567181_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fYaicM1_KTA/We3si756Q9I/AAAAAAAAFOk/3owgnWB307gSfBcMb2kLEgbvt3c7Xc25QCEwYBhgL/s640/22809780_10215234304677277_1859567181_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T08D6R7BGZk/We3siDtYnpI/AAAAAAAAFOc/ESXRBAYRYckG4ELnvKCw-sjj7S7iEo1eACEwYBhgL/s1600/22773607_10215234304717278_1696052552_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-T08D6R7BGZk/We3siDtYnpI/AAAAAAAAFOc/ESXRBAYRYckG4ELnvKCw-sjj7S7iEo1eACEwYBhgL/s640/22773607_10215234304717278_1696052552_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4b5zf01aLM8/We3shiDws8I/AAAAAAAAFOU/LbIpr2XqXTAQBRfZgEbxCgKaCcf_Q5KNwCEwYBhgL/s1600/22773598_10215234302877232_2116123228_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4b5zf01aLM8/We3shiDws8I/AAAAAAAAFOU/LbIpr2XqXTAQBRfZgEbxCgKaCcf_Q5KNwCEwYBhgL/s640/22773598_10215234302877232_2116123228_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I love fall in Michigan. I'm a little sad I'm missing its peak this year, but I'm grateful I was able to crutch down to the picnic table and watch my kids enjoy the slides. T-minus 24 days until I can ditch the crutches and (hopefully) have my kids home from daycare. Until then, I can be found online shopping. Send your Christmas lists in now, people.</div>Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-52056679290028754202017-09-25T08:30:00.000-07:002017-09-25T08:30:53.557-07:00From the Weekend—Summer pumpkins<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-39N5aEW8BdI/Wcj9KJoLxMI/AAAAAAAAFNc/C0meBdtaeHc3feCOj2d4_ssV_3Q2H99cwCEwYBhgL/s1600/where%2Bis%2Bfall%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="1395" height="478" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-39N5aEW8BdI/Wcj9KJoLxMI/AAAAAAAAFNc/C0meBdtaeHc3feCOj2d4_ssV_3Q2H99cwCEwYBhgL/s640/where%2Bis%2Bfall%2B1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture of completed pumpkins coming soon!</td></tr></tbody></table>This weekend Tim told me, "I'll get the kids ready for bed so you can go take a shower." So this weekend was basically a vacation (aside from the 90 degree weather). We did not let the hot weather keep us from enjoying our early fall festivities though. So, with the air conditioning blasting, we painted our pumpkins, ate caramel apples, and watched the Lions lose a game (hold your "Lions losing" jokes. They might as well have won). I am extremely excited for October and November, so despite the fact that it's supposed to be 90 degrees again today, I'm welcoming this last full week of September.<div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jd4XzJl3Shg/Wcj9KPtSx-I/AAAAAAAAFNY/vArPKHE3bRw-5D0NaTo19tGACz64l4_5ACEwYBhgL/s1600/where%2Bis%2Bfall%2B3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="588" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jd4XzJl3Shg/Wcj9KPtSx-I/AAAAAAAAFNY/vArPKHE3bRw-5D0NaTo19tGACz64l4_5ACEwYBhgL/s640/where%2Bis%2Bfall%2B3.jpg" width="358" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Best caramel apple I've ever had.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ms6yI1cbOE0/Wcj9LN8FCpI/AAAAAAAAFNg/S__J7VR-f0ohTj7B28oSREa00P_WgQ8nACLcBGAs/s1600/where%2Bis%2Bfall%2B4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="1395" height="478" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ms6yI1cbOE0/Wcj9LN8FCpI/AAAAAAAAFNg/S__J7VR-f0ohTj7B28oSREa00P_WgQ8nACLcBGAs/s640/where%2Bis%2Bfall%2B4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She' so crafty!&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FyVrSABb_Ls/Wcj9KJJceoI/AAAAAAAAFNU/jehutxHpQfgfo-AYS-CazgcBauHHhL2MACLcBGAs/s1600/where%2Bis%2Bfall%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="784" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FyVrSABb_Ls/Wcj9KJJceoI/AAAAAAAAFNU/jehutxHpQfgfo-AYS-CazgcBauHHhL2MACLcBGAs/s640/where%2Bis%2Bfall%2B2.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This face perfectly sums up his mood lately: mischievous&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table></div></div>Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-63590060039149189402017-09-18T07:41:00.000-07:002017-09-18T07:41:18.443-07:00From the weekend—FOOTBALL<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6W5SZPB9F68/Wb_WndwOrgI/AAAAAAAAFMs/GB-UYAplLTE4eTJ61ydh3hz7fsQMLXvoACLcBGAs/s1600/archie%252Cmomma%2Bparking%2Bgarage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1026" data-original-width="1368" height="480" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6W5SZPB9F68/Wb_WndwOrgI/AAAAAAAAFMs/GB-UYAplLTE4eTJ61ydh3hz7fsQMLXvoACLcBGAs/s640/archie%252Cmomma%2Bparking%2Bgarage.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our relationship summed up in a picture. Spit bubbles, kisses, and funny faces.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>We're currently going through a phase (dear God, please let it be a phase) in our house where it's somehow acceptable to wake up between 4-4:50 a.m and request breakfast. If you have kids, you know this inevitably and ultimately results in crankiness, (toddler) indecisiveness and a continual supply of coffee. So this weekend can be summed up with coffee runs, pancakes, and football.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qy0yAWrQSls/Wb_WmRI0DVI/AAAAAAAAFMk/UisOYNyqcWAv0wDUHggoEsNppoIjBpOsACEwYBhgL/s1600/ella%2Bcoffee%2Bshop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1026" data-original-width="770" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qy0yAWrQSls/Wb_WmRI0DVI/AAAAAAAAFMk/UisOYNyqcWAv0wDUHggoEsNppoIjBpOsACEwYBhgL/s640/ella%2Bcoffee%2Bshop.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">THIS JUST IN: We found our new regular coffee shop.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RmMB7vJm5k4/Wb_WnhnvI4I/AAAAAAAAFMw/9VgtDYMBxd0vWJJfAadyZKNL_NpGQWkvQCEwYBhgL/s1600/ella%252C%2Bmomma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1026" data-original-width="1368" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RmMB7vJm5k4/Wb_WnhnvI4I/AAAAAAAAFMw/9VgtDYMBxd0vWJJfAadyZKNL_NpGQWkvQCEwYBhgL/s640/ella%252C%2Bmomma.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-grZebGOMtwE/Wb_WnOjZ_dI/AAAAAAAAFMo/JwgUhtji-nUD7bug2xxkVVp_UCWukXfzwCEwYBhgL/s1600/church.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1026" data-original-width="770" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-grZebGOMtwE/Wb_WnOjZ_dI/AAAAAAAAFMo/JwgUhtji-nUD7bug2xxkVVp_UCWukXfzwCEwYBhgL/s640/church.jpg" width="480" /></a><br /><i>Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin. </i>- St. Teresa of Calcutta&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table>Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-14004681380924240522017-09-11T07:10:00.004-07:002017-09-11T07:11:36.241-07:00From the weekend—Through a lens of gratitude <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zN32BvLJxSM/WbaJlhL_fTI/AAAAAAAAFME/BIuhlBgaSCc0-b1ndMo9GxJkYWMJ3BCjwCLcBGAs/s1600/momma%252C%2Barchie%252C%2Bella.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zN32BvLJxSM/WbaJlhL_fTI/AAAAAAAAFME/BIuhlBgaSCc0-b1ndMo9GxJkYWMJ3BCjwCLcBGAs/s640/momma%252C%2Barchie%252C%2Bella.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />So (so) many people had a weekend that I'm sure they wish they could forget. On Friday, Tim, the kids, and I were on our way to the park for an evening out with each other. On the way, I told him it almost didn't feel right to go out, to make the most of our weekend, while so many people throughout the country were facing or had recently faced or were waiting to face such devastation. My heart hurt, so I tried, as best I could, to look at every moment of our weekend through a lens of gratitude. As we go into this week, we're praying for all those who are hurting and for those who are remembering the hurt from 16 years ago.<br /><br />Let's make this week a good one.Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-21330288290593577692017-09-05T07:40:00.002-07:002017-09-05T07:40:48.473-07:00From the weekend—Laborin' and Parkin'<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IgKj6jlX-7k/Wa6z10mzDRI/AAAAAAAAFLU/f0znGOOCK2IVdfDAhgVP6JiSJm8rifO2ACLcBGAs/s1600/Momma%252C%2BElla%252C%2BArchie%2Bat%2Bthe%2Bpark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="760" data-original-width="1014" height="478" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IgKj6jlX-7k/Wa6z10mzDRI/AAAAAAAAFLU/f0znGOOCK2IVdfDAhgVP6JiSJm8rifO2ACLcBGAs/s640/Momma%252C%2BElla%252C%2BArchie%2Bat%2Bthe%2Bpark.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was not staged. The park was actually that much fun.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When you have kids, weekends are always a toss-up. The days, when the stars align, go by smoothly, plans go accordingly, and everyone is well-rested and agrees to eat "the green". There is, however, always the looming possibility that a molar will decided to come in, or restless nights will occur and everyone is all around...cranky. The stars aligned this weekend. While there were a couple sleepless nights (when aren't there, right?), this long weekend lived up to long-weekend expectations. We saw loved ones, we went swimming, we went to the park, frequented our favorite coffee shop. I've reluctantly decided to welcome, you, Tuesday. But this cup of coffee should see me through. To Chore Day, I go!</div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RN3cXZnVCmA/Wa6z1zWV12I/AAAAAAAAFLQ/W6aRhTS1vdse9Lw5oMwlOaeTFDZeBeJAACEwYBhgL/s1600/Ella.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="784" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RN3cXZnVCmA/Wa6z1zWV12I/AAAAAAAAFLQ/W6aRhTS1vdse9Lw5oMwlOaeTFDZeBeJAACEwYBhgL/s640/Ella.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rollin' down the hill!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IYM0Ce1zvNE/Wa6z14obEwI/AAAAAAAAFLM/oYhiH8L6HXcZBTMDdNs8td_wyH6O15OZgCEwYBhgL/s1600/Archie%2Bat%2Bthe%2Bpark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="784" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IYM0Ce1zvNE/Wa6z14obEwI/AAAAAAAAFLM/oYhiH8L6HXcZBTMDdNs8td_wyH6O15OZgCEwYBhgL/s640/Archie%2Bat%2Bthe%2Bpark.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kite flying. We've really taken a liking to it.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IOESrz3eefE/Wa6z1v40U3I/AAAAAAAAFLI/pGSuIa1ZjHofTRAC_YE-XFrYYOxu07kVgCEwYBhgL/s1600/Archie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="784" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IOESrz3eefE/Wa6z1v40U3I/AAAAAAAAFLI/pGSuIa1ZjHofTRAC_YE-XFrYYOxu07kVgCEwYBhgL/s640/Archie.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Archie ran right inside to the coffee shop, bumped into a poll, and fell down. Everyone around him loved it (and him) and it earned Archie some points to sit in the middle of the coffee shop floor and drink his milk.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k7vSZBWIlHs/Wa6z2bSIS6I/AAAAAAAAFLY/BvS7ua8l9TMkgbYgGiq1awFfh4b1p3kIgCEwYBhgL/s1600/Sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="588" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k7vSZBWIlHs/Wa6z2bSIS6I/AAAAAAAAFLY/BvS7ua8l9TMkgbYgGiq1awFfh4b1p3kIgCEwYBhgL/s640/Sign.jpg" width="358" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Tuesday. Happy New Week.</td></tr></tbody></table>Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-24762552455405257682017-08-28T05:47:00.000-07:002017-08-28T05:47:23.481-07:00From the weekend—Rest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HXRegT06yPQ/WaN2ahJN-LI/AAAAAAAAFKo/8ah8GGxJRzM2RlJvaMwpzQJPp8XxNvDFgCLcBGAs/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HXRegT06yPQ/WaN2ahJN-LI/AAAAAAAAFKo/8ah8GGxJRzM2RlJvaMwpzQJPp8XxNvDFgCLcBGAs/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gH8McXGP5Xk/WaN2lLEl-sI/AAAAAAAAFKs/Vw3kWMz-oyQ6DEsWmi68ZDUCX1BrBdmRACLcBGAs/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gH8McXGP5Xk/WaN2lLEl-sI/AAAAAAAAFKs/Vw3kWMz-oyQ6DEsWmi68ZDUCX1BrBdmRACLcBGAs/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This weekend was nothing more than a weekend of rest. After a week of colds, coughs, and crankiness, we hunkered down in our apartment and embraced some recovery time. We ventured out and took the kids to the bookstore and got a Sunday cup of coffee. And that was that. Good morning, Monday.</div>Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-64138181674891521962017-08-23T07:24:00.001-07:002017-08-23T07:24:22.130-07:00Fading AugustWhat's that saying? About March. Comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb? Unlike March, August was a lion. It came in roaring, unapologetically. And it was painful. I was caught up in the winds of my mom in the hospital, and tying up loose ends at my job and making the transition into stay-at-home motherhood. A change in antidepressants didn't help. The drowsiness, nausea and lack of appetite got in the way. And based on my mom's health, I thought it best to cancel our plans to fly out to Southern California to be in my best college friend's wedding. It was the right call, I knew it in my gut, but that didn't soothe the sting.<br /><br />I had had high expectations for this summer—unreasonably high, actually. It was our first full summer in Michigan. And I hadn't spent a summer here since I was in college. There were reasons to build this summer up, no doubt. And it was good and nice and all that, don't get me wrong. But these past few months not only didn't live up to my high expectations, but they were more difficult than the typical month. But one of my favorite things about Michigan is the inevitable change in season. It forces a change in your home and your routine and yields a new mindset of starting new.<br /><br />I do a version of 'spring cleaning' every season. After moving regularly over the past 6 years, I've gotten into the habit of routinely de-cluttering. Going through the closets, drawers, and storage feels particularly good this month. It's like I'm throwing all the "negative vibes" that accompanied July and August out with the junk. How cathartic.<br /><br />From what it seems, we have an exciting fall ahead of us, so there's no reason to excessively "boo-hoo" over what didn't happen or what could have been during the summer. The cider mills are opening, people, so we should all collectively shout out with joy.<br /><br />Farewell, summer.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VuZ0KnqtsJE/WZ2NQAktjJI/AAAAAAAAFJw/FKro0vZUAwkJOXp2Ia_45aYQf2UZQx2UwCLcBGAs/s1600/archie%2Bice%2Bcream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VuZ0KnqtsJE/WZ2NQAktjJI/AAAAAAAAFJw/FKro0vZUAwkJOXp2Ia_45aYQf2UZQx2UwCLcBGAs/s640/archie%2Bice%2Bcream.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So many trips to get ice cream. (No regrets.)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eHdig0cdU3s/WZ2NRuigjKI/AAAAAAAAFKA/V1yqupOtCeo3L2BSZV_ulbvdUGl0g-PIACLcBGAs/s1600/tim%2Band%2Bella.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eHdig0cdU3s/WZ2NRuigjKI/AAAAAAAAFKA/V1yqupOtCeo3L2BSZV_ulbvdUGl0g-PIACLcBGAs/s640/tim%2Band%2Bella.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some park play time after a Sunday brunch at one of our favorite spots.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WhnKGd85sUQ/WZ2NQarqUxI/AAAAAAAAFJ0/aRJmyMjpBUAnRCuyErq_pSAbFAqjD4z3wCLcBGAs/s1600/dessert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WhnKGd85sUQ/WZ2NQarqUxI/AAAAAAAAFJ0/aRJmyMjpBUAnRCuyErq_pSAbFAqjD4z3wCLcBGAs/s640/dessert.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm discovering all the hidden gems that have decadent GF treats. Gluten-free cheesecake, anyone?</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eZzm5XequTA/WZ2NSD8NRLI/AAAAAAAAFKI/DUCXQF3uSRctkU5OMGAAsiAhtuOCVcdgwCLcBGAs/s1600/ella%2Bstroller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eZzm5XequTA/WZ2NSD8NRLI/AAAAAAAAFKI/DUCXQF3uSRctkU5OMGAAsiAhtuOCVcdgwCLcBGAs/s640/ella%2Bstroller.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's such a little momma. Her stuffies are lucky.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8xm8A2oumEQ/WZ2NRLVfaFI/AAAAAAAAFJ4/189gE243mscHjognRtH2siBLilSi7tAswCLcBGAs/s1600/ella%2Bzoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8xm8A2oumEQ/WZ2NRLVfaFI/AAAAAAAAFJ4/189gE243mscHjognRtH2siBLilSi7tAswCLcBGAs/s640/ella%2Bzoo.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aunties.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qb6hWD38gOA/WZ2NRKSzdpI/AAAAAAAAFJ8/n_9tqG41BOMPlbJFqNPFcjQpFW46jNynQCLcBGAs/s1600/tim%2Band%2Bella%2Bice%2Bcream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qb6hWD38gOA/WZ2NRKSzdpI/AAAAAAAAFJ8/n_9tqG41BOMPlbJFqNPFcjQpFW46jNynQCLcBGAs/s640/tim%2Band%2Bella%2Bice%2Bcream.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LDyDbzFIJjo/WZ2NRhC8Y2I/AAAAAAAAFKE/XCiACh3wVwYLSRV7-kvTczaKq76cKlUjwCLcBGAs/s1600/tim%2Band%2Bme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LDyDbzFIJjo/WZ2NRhC8Y2I/AAAAAAAAFKE/XCiACh3wVwYLSRV7-kvTczaKq76cKlUjwCLcBGAs/s640/tim%2Band%2Bme.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parents at the park.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hAmtdjgr1T8/WZ2NXlZrlmI/AAAAAAAAFKQ/6kNN04EBnqMY__ptcXXPrVHdji1AIXQBQCLcBGAs/s1600/archie%2Breunion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hAmtdjgr1T8/WZ2NXlZrlmI/AAAAAAAAFKQ/6kNN04EBnqMY__ptcXXPrVHdji1AIXQBQCLcBGAs/s640/archie%2Breunion.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Family reunion 2017.</td></tr></tbody></table>Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-28074824150976308712017-08-21T06:07:00.000-07:002017-08-21T06:07:02.028-07:00From the weekend—Cruisin'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ISybjUCvPAY/WZpHhojlJhI/AAAAAAAAFIA/cp6mEno4HsMZpVbJa_3B6zMfg6uWZEy1ACLcBGAs/s1600/a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ISybjUCvPAY/WZpHhojlJhI/AAAAAAAAFIA/cp6mEno4HsMZpVbJa_3B6zMfg6uWZEy1ACLcBGAs/s640/a.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4AoHyV5XBpw/WZpHiDpReJI/AAAAAAAAFII/MhdZwssLxmMkP3jB7SQL8_d0KkXar_IVACLcBGAs/s1600/b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1319" data-original-width="1600" height="526" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4AoHyV5XBpw/WZpHiDpReJI/AAAAAAAAFII/MhdZwssLxmMkP3jB7SQL8_d0KkXar_IVACLcBGAs/s640/b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VaqCKIBPFf0/WZpHhzz72LI/AAAAAAAAFIE/paA1N4b2xNgVc6IyJWG-7LcX_CtOmaNyQCLcBGAs/s1600/c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VaqCKIBPFf0/WZpHhzz72LI/AAAAAAAAFIE/paA1N4b2xNgVc6IyJWG-7LcX_CtOmaNyQCLcBGAs/s640/c.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Dream cruise weekend. One of the signature weekends that makes Detroit, Detroit. It's the Saturday when all of Woodward essentially shuts down and makes room for the dusted-off and polished-up classic cars. Since I've only been to a handful of Dream Cruises in my life, I was excited for the family to experience it in all its fume-filled glory as a part of it was going to be new for me, too. We walked 5 miles, Archie had a tantrum and our time was cut short from cranky babies. Alas. The classic car parade the night before was, I think, the highlight. With every rev of an engine, Archie let out an animated&nbsp;<i>Ohhhh!</i><br /><i><br /></i>No set plans as we head into this week. Is every stay-at-home mom like that? Takes each day one at a time? Sometimes I feel like I should have activities highlighted and color-coded by day or whatever. But I don't, and I probably never will. What is on my invisible to-do list is cleaning the kitchen three times and having an afternoon dance party to the <i>Sing</i>&nbsp;soundtrack.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1s9gUjY9728/WZpHibyaEoI/AAAAAAAAFIM/czTyg_huNEwiq-LE391vkYNBS8JlgOQ2QCLcBGAs/s1600/d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1s9gUjY9728/WZpHibyaEoI/AAAAAAAAFIM/czTyg_huNEwiq-LE391vkYNBS8JlgOQ2QCLcBGAs/s640/d.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I mean, really? These 2 have been giving me all the feels lately—mostly equal parts baby fever and "pass the wine".</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5hJgIF0-9TA/WZpHihDbS3I/AAAAAAAAFIQ/_Yn07-0shsInlyO5Bb3AIgpQR9gMBXefwCLcBGAs/s1600/e.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5hJgIF0-9TA/WZpHihDbS3I/AAAAAAAAFIQ/_Yn07-0shsInlyO5Bb3AIgpQR9gMBXefwCLcBGAs/s640/e.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giant sandbox in one of our favorite neighborhoods.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eeCX9qByDes/WZpHj07z0YI/AAAAAAAAFIU/mzIjzTLuNYYrSbcU1hHUmmmV1cYUxCJnwCLcBGAs/s1600/f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eeCX9qByDes/WZpHj07z0YI/AAAAAAAAFIU/mzIjzTLuNYYrSbcU1hHUmmmV1cYUxCJnwCLcBGAs/s640/f.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oItzflIxKBw/WZpHkCAKK1I/AAAAAAAAFIY/kOrR4uXJy84KECsGeFapY8HXIuwyRpKJwCLcBGAs/s1600/h.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oItzflIxKBw/WZpHkCAKK1I/AAAAAAAAFIY/kOrR4uXJy84KECsGeFapY8HXIuwyRpKJwCLcBGAs/s640/h.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ella's into taking pictures after church lately. We "go see Mary" (the statue) then "take a picture."</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EJmn8MML-e8/WZpHkchUxYI/AAAAAAAAFIc/XUoLrGlaEN41ZwxJKHpMuY7-G6a4WD8KQCLcBGAs/s1600/i.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EJmn8MML-e8/WZpHkchUxYI/AAAAAAAAFIc/XUoLrGlaEN41ZwxJKHpMuY7-G6a4WD8KQCLcBGAs/s640/i.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Thanks to one of my best friends) we discovered a new local coffee shop. They have GF banana bread and it looks like...this. So all the wins, really.</td></tr></tbody></table>Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-86810328863209512442017-08-15T07:28:00.001-07:002017-08-15T07:28:36.545-07:00Momma and me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LsIoxlax7pA/WZLuVTxVjRI/AAAAAAAAFHc/O52WSiKcAKUYzpyP4ikI_4NCIGDM0yGRwCLcBGAs/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LsIoxlax7pA/WZLuVTxVjRI/AAAAAAAAFHc/O52WSiKcAKUYzpyP4ikI_4NCIGDM0yGRwCLcBGAs/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">On Friday, I put on some lipstick, braided Ella's hair, and we bid the boys a farewell as we went off to our first-ever momma/daughter date night. The last time I went somewhere by myself with Ella, I was pregnant with Archie and it was the first time I had driven with her post-agoraphobia. A particularly triumphant day, but it was nothing spectacular as we scooted on down the street to the local target for some groceries. But <i>this </i>this was date night. We were dressed up and ready to celebrate one of my best friends (and one of Ella's favorite people) at her bridal shower.</span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Both Ella and Archie are in a deep current of a growth spurt and the ebb and flow has been hard to manage, to say the least. Ella wants to be able to sit quietly and practice her numbers, letters, and writing her name, and Archie—sweet, rowdy, little Arch—wants to scribble on any space Ella touches. Needless to say, waves are crashing and I'm trying to stay afloat. But in observing this behavior, I realized how important one-on-one time is with the kids.</span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Leading up to last Friday, I would talk about our "special night" with her. <i>What dress do you want to wear? Would you like me to braid your hair? Are you excited to see Katie, Beth and Susie? Yes, there will be treats.</i>&nbsp;The night came, she stayed up past her bedtime and she came home happy. I don't know if it's connected; I have no evidence to suggest so, but after I noticed she was a little lighter with Archie. She was more willing to share and began playing well with Archie, the best since <a href="https://kelochner.blogspot.com/2017/08/why-i-went-back-to-being-stay-at-home.html">I started staying at home with them.</a></span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ella is at a super fun age. I've been looking forward to this age since she was born. There's just something about having a conversation with a three year old...so I'm glad that I've kicked anxiety in the butt enough that I'm able to go out and share these special moments with her. 'Cause they are certainly just getting started.&nbsp;</span>Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-48117209084525615752017-08-01T06:22:00.000-07:002017-08-01T10:45:47.456-07:00Why I went back to being a stay-at-home mom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cd3OOe_HF8k/WX-1fcRF_lI/AAAAAAAAFGI/ZXoBXC3vUDEN05aHrI5OOHA14744esaXwCLcBGAs/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cd3OOe_HF8k/WX-1fcRF_lI/AAAAAAAAFGI/ZXoBXC3vUDEN05aHrI5OOHA14744esaXwCLcBGAs/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />A couple weeks ago, after three (quite agonizing) months of internally going back and forth on my decision, I quit my job.<br /><br />My job demanded a lot of me, and, often times, those demands fell on a weekend or week night. I handled it well for a good 10 months or so, but as I came up to my year mark, the responsibilities of work, family, and caring for a household began to fight for my best self, and I wasn't able to deliver even a semi-present version of myself. Without the caffeine intake of a coffee addict, you'd find me dozing everywhere. Even the car. And it was when my foot began to slip off the pedal while driving home from daycare that I realized something had to give.<br /><br />But what to some would seem like an easy decision was not easy for me. A job gave me structure. It meant that no matter what, I had to be out of the house clothes pressed, face applied by 7:25 am. For someone who suffers from chronic anxiety and is prone to depression, this structure and routine was everything. Since I've been a full-time stay-at-home mom before, I know this path is mentally the harder one for me, and in the weeks leading up to me quitting work, I was not convinced about choosing the route that, previously, has led me to therapy—3 times.<br /><br />But things will be different this time. And those factors ultimately helped me to decide that being at home was the right decision. I'm in Michigan now. I can go to my best friends' parents' house for <i>The Bachelorette&nbsp;</i>on Monday night (Go Peter). And can ask someone to watch the kids for a day if I need the mental break. And Tim and I have the opportunity to go out, just the 2 of us, every once in a while. I'm not isolated, even a little bit, and I'm able to drive beyond my city limits without having a panic attack. A lot has changed.<br /><br />Am I going to comment on the whole idea of <i>women being able to have it all</i>? Lord help me. Moms can work full-time if they so choose. I think we do need to realize, however, it is a simple fact that we mere mortals cannot be in three different places at a single moment in time, so one aspect of life somewhere somehow will feel your time being allocated in so many different ways. And that is perfectly fine and okay to an extent. Like, for instance, I had no problem having my kids in daycare. We had a near ideal setup and the woman who watched the kids was truly great. They loved going there. (And they will still occasionally go there.) They learned, and I saw growth in them that I was happy to see. However, <b>for me</b>&nbsp;and my family the schedule we were trying to pull off got to be too much. On a good week, when I had been particularly on top of meal planning, budgeting, and grocery shopping, the kids and I would pile into the apartment at 5:30, I'd get them settled, rush to make dinner, and get the kids ready for bed a short hour and a half later. The cycle was grueling on both Tim and me, and we soon became intolerant of the laundry piled high, the fridge screaming to be cleaned, and our finances demanding a little more attention. Maybe if we had someone to clean the house, or if Tim still worked from home, or his commute wasn't an hour, or I wasn't in a managerial position, etc., etc., etc. Who knows? Each family has its own unique set of circumstances, and we all try to do our best.<br /><br />Don't let me fool you into thinking I'm devastated over quitting, and I'm just dreading being at home with my kids 8 hours a day. While I will miss the people in my department, I'm excited to transition back into this role. Even when Ella was a newborn, I looked forward to the days when she would start talking and say the cutest, strangest, most hilarious little sentences. Now she does. And Archie is at a fun (albeit testy) age. I'm happy summer is winding down, and me and the kids will be able to put together a Fall Bucket List that, I think, will allow us to reset as a family.<br /><br />So, another change has begun. Not surprising in the least for us Lochners. But not long after I came to my decision, my mom got sick, so I can't help but think Divine Providence has been guiding me toward the right decision all along. At this point in time, my life is calling me to focus on my family. And so focus on my family I will.Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-15732585517812076552017-07-10T08:55:00.004-07:002017-07-10T08:55:58.100-07:00The tale of an (attempted) vacation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mqV-emfx0F0/WWMC3e98CII/AAAAAAAAFEw/iuClqs1tZDsiTKrSxiRtLuuCV1st_QvvQCLcBGAs/s1600/k%2Bdetroit%2Briver.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mqV-emfx0F0/WWMC3e98CII/AAAAAAAAFEw/iuClqs1tZDsiTKrSxiRtLuuCV1st_QvvQCLcBGAs/s640/k%2Bdetroit%2Briver.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DC5ognRWgY8/WWMC5Qn6UQI/AAAAAAAAFE4/4bNdCztyQKYfnEc3nA1wsqvnDSbVVHrngCLcBGAs/s1600/k%2Bjoe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DC5ognRWgY8/WWMC5Qn6UQI/AAAAAAAAFE4/4bNdCztyQKYfnEc3nA1wsqvnDSbVVHrngCLcBGAs/s640/k%2Bjoe.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Farewell, Joe.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zBAyaQPbMzs/WWMC3BueOXI/AAAAAAAAFEo/3bet2DV70gIMSBPWCo2cG6SUzjI68o6IQCLcBGAs/s1600/detroit%2Briver.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zBAyaQPbMzs/WWMC3BueOXI/AAAAAAAAFEo/3bet2DV70gIMSBPWCo2cG6SUzjI68o6IQCLcBGAs/s640/detroit%2Briver.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XiDIV9h--Uk/WWMDNwP451I/AAAAAAAAFFI/ih3Rlt0V9SYm7fg3x56rExtcg3ipRhG8ACLcBGAs/s1600/19748745_10214176896362730_7601949066114663842_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="719" data-original-width="960" height="478" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XiDIV9h--Uk/WWMDNwP451I/AAAAAAAAFFI/ih3Rlt0V9SYm7fg3x56rExtcg3ipRhG8ACLcBGAs/s640/19748745_10214176896362730_7601949066114663842_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i1cUlCsvkJo/WWMDN2gCw0I/AAAAAAAAFFE/MSwRailoAM0kAENKUuJpphtRbmSCyi6GwCLcBGAs/s1600/19510577_10214100903262950_7027880749878233349_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i1cUlCsvkJo/WWMDN2gCw0I/AAAAAAAAFFE/MSwRailoAM0kAENKUuJpphtRbmSCyi6GwCLcBGAs/s640/19510577_10214100903262950_7027880749878233349_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My boo. My man.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jaBEcnor5f4/WWMC5aJS_4I/AAAAAAAAFFA/RwhVY0Sgs9MsuY6lrAMpDq1e8gShINFkQCEwYBhgL/s1600/t%2Band%2Be%2Bzoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jaBEcnor5f4/WWMC5aJS_4I/AAAAAAAAFFA/RwhVY0Sgs9MsuY6lrAMpDq1e8gShINFkQCEwYBhgL/s640/t%2Band%2Be%2Bzoo.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LJEITAIKetk/WWMC2RUdY8I/AAAAAAAAFEg/bNLSxXCasy0RHcu-EM0DxBczXX3VLnhywCEwYBhgL/s1600/a%2Bzoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LJEITAIKetk/WWMC2RUdY8I/AAAAAAAAFEg/bNLSxXCasy0RHcu-EM0DxBczXX3VLnhywCEwYBhgL/s640/a%2Bzoo.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tWWMb3TbRR4/WWMDV7PvH7I/AAAAAAAAFFM/xuXmvH7k2-QOqhjTGSuP3qlSZhowFrCtACLcBGAs/s1600/camels%2Bposing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tWWMb3TbRR4/WWMDV7PvH7I/AAAAAAAAFFM/xuXmvH7k2-QOqhjTGSuP3qlSZhowFrCtACLcBGAs/s640/camels%2Bposing.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Have you ever seen camels pose for pictures?</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4jNqfv9pNn0/WWMC20WWAtI/AAAAAAAAFEk/Q-L_eo2fQnIkSa75DblPBTCgT6FgZERlQCEwYBhgL/s1600/k%2Band%2Be%2Bzoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4jNqfv9pNn0/WWMC20WWAtI/AAAAAAAAFEk/Q-L_eo2fQnIkSa75DblPBTCgT6FgZERlQCEwYBhgL/s640/k%2Band%2Be%2Bzoo.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I want to see the cats!" Zoo Day!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A6KYCOq_Rto/WWMC4Y-jnoI/AAAAAAAAFE0/Zx7ESJAfhqsKJ9y_P6bVlYyXMqZ5FA5BQCEwYBhgL/s1600/k%2Bposing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A6KYCOq_Rto/WWMC4Y-jnoI/AAAAAAAAFE0/Zx7ESJAfhqsKJ9y_P6bVlYyXMqZ5FA5BQCEwYBhgL/s640/k%2Bposing.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t-aegy7nJaY/WWMC1UuT8qI/AAAAAAAAFEc/z1lfh_61IjwnjFrOc0F4QYlW6-yhO_PGQCEwYBhgL/s1600/fathers%2Bday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1026" data-original-width="770" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t-aegy7nJaY/WWMC1UuT8qI/AAAAAAAAFEc/z1lfh_61IjwnjFrOc0F4QYlW6-yhO_PGQCEwYBhgL/s640/fathers%2Bday.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celebrating a belated Father's Day.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZkoP27CTk/WWMC5RBmQkI/AAAAAAAAFE8/ltQT273uqp0IKvqRjN1EsDHEtMFviv4LACEwYBhgL/s1600/k%2Brunning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-92ZkoP27CTk/WWMC5RBmQkI/AAAAAAAAFE8/ltQT273uqp0IKvqRjN1EsDHEtMFviv4LACEwYBhgL/s640/k%2Brunning.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vacation is the perfect time to...take up running?</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LU0_8NCz7cc/WWMC3Kk9vAI/AAAAAAAAFEs/2r1tjA-R6swUYRewdmqyeXXG1lflTsvqwCEwYBhgL/s1600/k%2Band%2Bk%2Brange.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LU0_8NCz7cc/WWMC3Kk9vAI/AAAAAAAAFEs/2r1tjA-R6swUYRewdmqyeXXG1lflTsvqwCEwYBhgL/s640/k%2Band%2Bk%2Brange.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look out! We got clubs.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />For the last week and a day, both Tim and I have been off from work. For months, we had been looking forward to our vacation during the week of the 4th of July, so much so that maybe I had had unrealistically high expectations.&nbsp;<i>Day trips! Husband-wife get away! We'll get stuff done around the apartment! Organize! Hang stuff!</i><br /><i><br /></i>I mean, really—unrealistically high expectations.<br /><br />I'm not about to sit here and complain about having the last six days off from work, because everyone loves some time away from 'the grind'. But I will say these last six days were nothing that we expected and, at a time or two, it was especially disappointing. Our husband/wife anniversary getaway fell through. (Look out, 5 year anniversary plans!) Archer's two-year-old molars decided to start popping through, which meant near all-nighters and a feverish baby. And I ended up having to work at various points throughout the week.<br /><br />Though our time together did not go as planned, we still had a zoo day, a beach day (which was so fun I don't have one picture from the day). We had a family movie night, we went out for ice cream. Tim and I had a date day. And I was able to catch some 'me-time' with my best friends.<br /><br />Sometimes vacation is about jam-packed itineraries, day trips, and getaways. Other times, vacation is about seeing how many days in row you can go without showering or how many episodes of <i>Scandal</i> you can watch in one night (a lot) or how many ice cream outings you can fit into six days. And that's totally okay with me.Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-69097448186485050012017-07-06T08:17:00.000-07:002017-07-06T08:17:33.598-07:005 things I said I'd never do as a parent <div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xm87TT8RNKA/WV5Tv4qj4PI/AAAAAAAAFDw/BEoYIH3U8-QplwVtkzAxcOO0TvNxeZuXwCLcBGAs/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="784" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xm87TT8RNKA/WV5Tv4qj4PI/AAAAAAAAFDw/BEoYIH3U8-QplwVtkzAxcOO0TvNxeZuXwCLcBGAs/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These balloons have been my nemesis since their arrival. The kids walk in the door and get distracted by these things. I've been known to use bribery a time or 2 in this hallway.&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table>It doesn't matter if you choose to have kids at 55 or 25, there are some universal truths to parenting. Your kid will teethe, possibly poop in the bathtub, lose him/herself over you peeling a banana the wrong way, bang on the door while you're in the bathroom. You'll be tired at all hours of the day—3 pm will at times feel like 3 am. And, on more than one occasion, you'll question your sanity.<br /><br />Because of these inevitable realities, you may find yourself sinking into a few habits that you <i>swore</i>&nbsp;you'd never do before you had kids. Today, I'm here to admit 5 things I said I'd never do as a parent before I had kids.</div><div><br /></div><b>1) Bribe.</b> Let me just say, I don't think bribery is the healthiest way to get a kid to do something. (Duh?) I'm a big advocate of the ideas in the <i>Parenting With Love and Logic</i> series, which promotes talking your kids through tough situations or when they're upset, etc. But after the fifth "no" to "let's get your pants on" I've been known to say, "I'll give you M&amp;Ms in the car if you put your pants on."<br /><div><br /></div><div><b>2) Give a pouch for dinner.</b> Ah, food. It's the hot topic of 21st century parenting. Making funny faces out of your kids' veggies and getting 2-year-olds to eat kale chips are all the rage these days. Power to those parents who try to get their kids to eat healthy under any and every circumstance. I put an effort into getting my kid to eat green stuff, too, but after having one easy eater and one picky eater (both born and bred the same way) I've learned to pick and choose my battles. And, from time to time, I'm okay losing a battle over dinner. My kids have had a pouch (little nutritious packs of goo created from the baby gods themselves) for dinner on more than one occasion. Either they were too tired to eat, or they had a snack too close to dinner, or they just didn't want the dinner I made. Fine. I've learned the world will not end if they have pouches for dinner three times in their youth. &nbsp;&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div><b>3) Use phrases your parents said to you like "because I said so" or "just do it".</b> This one makes me cringe. I can't count how many times my mom said this to my indignant, rebellious youthful self. It's usually when you're trying to tend to 25 things at once and a toddler is refusing to do a simple task. I haven't said either of these phrases many times, but I have said one of them a time or two. And, man, you never really understand the Circle of Life until you utter something that you were told as a kid.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div><b>4) Use the TV as a babysitter. </b>Alright. Let's be real, people. I wouldn't believe it for a second if a parent said, "I've never used the T.V. as a babysitter. Pah-lease. On some days, I wouldn't get out the door with pants on if it weren't for ABC Mouse. And I only have two kids. A majority of the time, my kids stay occupied with toys, books, and playing with each other, but there are days when the little ones are antsy or irritated and the only thing that will keep them peaceful in one room is a little TV. I watched a ton of TV as a kid. And I'm perfectly fine with how I turned out.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>5) Snap at your kids</b>. This one is touchy. Like I mentioned before, I'm a big advocate in the practices laid out in <i>Parenting With Love and Logic</i>, and one of the practices that is encouraged is "no yelling". And I'm proud to say nine times out of ten, I take that route. If a meltdown is in full force, I typically take the little one to my rocking chair in the bedroom and hold them. Once they're quieted down, I'll talk to them and this practice works. But I'm a working mom of 2 toddlers. I get tired easily, and I'm not perfect. I've raised my voice at my 3-year-old. If it was unwarranted, I've also sat her down and told her Mommy was wrong and apologized.<br /><br />When I was a (really) new parent, I questioned every little thing, and it gave me serious anxiety (see early parenting posts). But I've come to learn that parenting is a dance with being kind to yourself and persevering. Not every day will unfold like Parenting magazine thinks it should, but that doesn't mean my kids will turn into selfish terrors. After seeing some habits we've worked to instill in Ella come to fruition, I've become more confident in my abilities as a parent. I'm confident with how I'm raising my kids and the choices I've made. These 5 human things don't make me or any other mom out there less of a parent, they make us human.<br /><br />Happy parenting, friends. Be kind to yourself.&nbsp;</div>Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-83944279294967948612017-06-06T15:41:00.000-07:002017-06-06T17:27:16.662-07:00Hometown stuck <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KY2q_6Ztb0Y/WTL9N8XJITI/AAAAAAAAE5U/0ffF22p4YZ8YOJdAOM7W4O1rDLResLingCLcB/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="997" data-original-width="1329" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KY2q_6Ztb0Y/WTL9N8XJITI/AAAAAAAAE5U/0ffF22p4YZ8YOJdAOM7W4O1rDLResLingCLcB/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />A few weeks ago, a couple of my co-workers and I were talking about our favorite coffee shops. Both born and raised outside of Michigan, one of them was describing his favorite shop he recently had found in the revitalized part of downtown Detroit.<br /><br />I looked at the Starbucks cup on my desk and said, "Tim and I haven't found <i>that place</i>&nbsp;since moving East. &nbsp;We definitely had our places out West." (Shout out to Nutmeg and Thatchers!)<br /><br />And from there, I started thinking. Tim and I always, <b>always </b>explored when we lived in Southern California and Washington. We kind of had to. We didn't have connections (or if we did, they were minimal) leading us to this new place or that perfect lookout. We Googled, we searched, we drove and boy, did we find some gems.<br /><br />Since moving to Michigan, we haven't explored, because we haven't needed to. I know where the grocery store is and where to get good gluten-free muffins and which neighborhoods have killer Christmas lights. There are 300 Starbucks around, so we aren't desperate for coffee and our weekends are occupied by errands and chores and being with friends and family. The itch to explore and <b>get out</b>&nbsp;has lessened, because we are comfortable, content.<br /><br />Being content is good and a blessing in its own right, but exploring your surroundings can be magical. It sure was when we got out in Oregon and Washington. We found some of our favorite spots, beaches, ice cream shops because we 'Googled' "best beach", "best ice cream", "what to do in Seaside, Oregon." We once drove 40 minutes on a Tuesday night for gluten-free Italian take-out. (Their GF tiramisu was worth the drive.) We'd often drive into Portland and spend a Sunday morning there or drive to our local downtown and try a new restaurant. We once piled in the car and drive two hours to Mt. St. Helens. We found parks and trails and lookouts. Since the place we called home was foreign to us, every outing was a mini-adventure.<br /><br />This isn't meant to be a somber farewell to a life we once lived. Life in Michigan is, dare I say it, pretty perfect. But as we approach the one-year mark of us moving here, I will be tapping into my exploration side a little more. I will be more eager to pop our bubble and drive beyond what we know. Summer is upon us, so the time for exploration and discovery is now. There is a whole part of Detroit that has had new life breathed into it, and I haven't eaten there, gotten coffee there, walked around there. Driving 2-3 hours North will take us into an untapped world of greenery, beaches, and clear water. I vacationed "Up North" as a kid, but in one condo in one location. Have you seen those Pure Michigan ads? We're not short "perfect destinations."<br /><br />Yeah, my family now lives in the state (and practically the city) where I grew up, but that doesn't mean we have to fall into a restrictive and blinding routine.<br /><br />To Summer, exploring, and being a tourist in your hometown.<br /><br />(Stay tuned for a Summer bucket list!)Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-57481879630959499362017-06-01T09:00:00.001-07:002017-06-01T09:05:27.485-07:00A mama's heart <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KqlWiMb3onc/WTA5Bdah08I/AAAAAAAAE5E/_4Li1JuBO4UVLTfWvWBKIT8C5fI_1NG2gCLcB/s1600/unnamed-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KqlWiMb3onc/WTA5Bdah08I/AAAAAAAAE5E/_4Li1JuBO4UVLTfWvWBKIT8C5fI_1NG2gCLcB/s640/unnamed-3.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;">A mama's heart is many things - fierce, protective, resilient, ever-loving. In my few years of holding the title, I've come to learn a mama's heart is also fragile. It's not constant and it's not crushed just for anything, a mama's heart is tough, strong. Only when we see our kids subject to pain, hurt, rejection does the fragility devour all other qualities and we fight to tap into that resilience, fierceness as we try to stay standing tall.&nbsp;</span><br /><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;">The other day at the park, there was a little girl about Ella's age with her Grandma. She was running from little play structure to little play structure in the "Tot Lot" when she arrived at the one Ella and Archie were playing at. Immediately, Ella went from "Mommy, stand on this" to inching toward this little girl giggling - the universal "You wanna build a snowman?" in toddler girl code.&nbsp;</span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;">Tim was now at the play structure, I on the bench in the shade, and the little girl ran from the slide to the teeter totter, Ella running after her. When the girl noticed Ella had followed, she stuck out her arms looking as if she was signaling Ella to go away and her Grandma, in an effort to be inclusive, patted her shoulder with what I only could assume was a, "be nice."&nbsp;</span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;">The Grandma got on the teeter totter with the girl, bounced, and asked Ella if she wanted to get on. Ella ran over to the bench, "Mommy, I need to get on the seat." Fragile, oh so fragile, I said, "Okay, sweetie. Run and ask Daddy. He'll put you on." In these moments,&nbsp;</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;">Tim is the strong one. Ella did, but by the time they got over there, the girl ran away. Ella watched her get on a swing and continued to play with Archie.&nbsp;</span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;">Ella is only 3, she is tiny, but her heart is the size of Everest. She's shy around adults, but she isn't the least bit shy around kids her size. She goes out of her way to make a friend and plays with anyone who shares the same taste in slides.&nbsp;</span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;">These are qualities I'm in awe of and that I love to see in my daughter, &nbsp;but they are qualities that can result in a little girl saying, "go away" or "I don't want to play with you." And while, yes, they're silly 3-year-olds, witnessing that sort of rejection is what breaks my fierce, protective, resilient mama heart into a thousand little pieces.&nbsp;</span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;">I know, <i>I know</i>&nbsp;Ella is just 3. Some might even be laughing as they read this thinking, oh just wait. She'll fail, she'll fall, she'll face 300 things that hurt. I'm not old and gray but I'm not naive to life; these realities won't make facing any amount of hurt Ella may endure any easier.</span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;">Almost a year ago, I wrote a little something on Instagram:</span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;">Tonight I watched 2 little girls on a tire swing yell, "Get away from us! Leave us alone!" to a littler boy who was simply watching them have their fun. My mama heart immediately broke into a thousand little pieces and I thought, "should I say something?" Neither parent was around, the girls were wanting their sister time and the boy wanted his adventure boy time. There wasn't name calling or bullying, so there really wasn't an urgent need to step in. But as I continued to swing next to Ella I couldn't help but think about my kids being on the line where the little boy stood, or across from it where the little girls sat on the swing. How would they handle that rejection? Would they ever willingly and boldly reject someone else? My tired parenting brain was already fried from the hectic day, so I pressed "pause" on the thought and watched my 2-year-old learn how to pump on the big girl swing. And then, I plopped my 2 babies on the grass and covered their eyes with Target sunglasses in an effort to get a celebratory Archie's-nine-months-old-today photo. As I snapped the picture, I reveled in the sight before me and prayed for the grace to raise each of them as the kid who walks up to the little boy and says, "wanna play?"</span></i></span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: &quot;times&quot; , &quot;times new roman&quot; , serif;">Thanks be to God, Ella is that kid who goes to others and extends an invitation to play, boldly and without fear. My new prayer is to be granted the grace to accept whatever lies on the other side of the invitation, that one "I don't want to play with you" won't shatter her boldness, her kindness, her confidence, and that I'll be able to walk Ella through come what may. In the meantime, I am learning from her to be kind, to extend an invitation, to smile.</span></div>Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-3580571944408367682017-05-30T08:57:00.001-07:002017-05-30T08:57:13.089-07:00Sunshine and family time <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xsoTlqh5qVA/WS2VWbvAC_I/AAAAAAAAE4E/kKbc4Rhiqx8WDOcnt-2utuuz0PAqkStPwCLcB/s1600/636F3DD8-E415-4AFC-89DC-E9431B736A43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xsoTlqh5qVA/WS2VWbvAC_I/AAAAAAAAE4E/kKbc4Rhiqx8WDOcnt-2utuuz0PAqkStPwCLcB/s640/636F3DD8-E415-4AFC-89DC-E9431B736A43.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />After backaches and migraines, spending the weekend with my little family was all I wanted and needed. We went to the park more than once, we got treats more than once, and everyone stayed up past their bedtime...more than once. As I type, my in-laws are making the long trek from Alaska and will be arriving before the weekend hits, so we have yet another family-filled weekend ahead. Stay tuned!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vgJkXejHAuE/WS2VheqcEHI/AAAAAAAAE4M/_E1PErD6ffUHFl7gQx8NyzRpHlpXZ3zxACLcB/s1600/1B0EFC6B-04BB-4432-B205-440A382F8500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vgJkXejHAuE/WS2VheqcEHI/AAAAAAAAE4M/_E1PErD6ffUHFl7gQx8NyzRpHlpXZ3zxACLcB/s640/1B0EFC6B-04BB-4432-B205-440A382F8500.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AEZTOiK5uzM/WS2VhsZNOJI/AAAAAAAAE4U/IygWbho8BuQaeJOUwVGLLqywm4JRpiAjgCLcB/s1600/79C89669-9A38-4A8D-A8EC-E08054A2BE5B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AEZTOiK5uzM/WS2VhsZNOJI/AAAAAAAAE4U/IygWbho8BuQaeJOUwVGLLqywm4JRpiAjgCLcB/s640/79C89669-9A38-4A8D-A8EC-E08054A2BE5B.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flyin' a kite!</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-17_tGNb-aAs/WS2Vh5a0goI/AAAAAAAAE4Y/KbJJRItY4scwCaMpHoYwhdiqe1QpwWU4gCLcB/s1600/B8D88201-58E9-4267-9357-11CF5840F32D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-17_tGNb-aAs/WS2Vh5a0goI/AAAAAAAAE4Y/KbJJRItY4scwCaMpHoYwhdiqe1QpwWU4gCLcB/s640/B8D88201-58E9-4267-9357-11CF5840F32D.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I live for these kids. These kids live for chocolate milk.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zQdwFf3yfZU/WS2Vh-FqhEI/AAAAAAAAE4c/ycFbS05fOtgGgsa6hOsm83IHBqhscXYbACLcB/s1600/B9A21F57-0332-450C-BAB5-3A6CB6D777C7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zQdwFf3yfZU/WS2Vh-FqhEI/AAAAAAAAE4c/ycFbS05fOtgGgsa6hOsm83IHBqhscXYbACLcB/s640/B9A21F57-0332-450C-BAB5-3A6CB6D777C7.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue-eyed girl, blue tongue.</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mX6JKbmS-oY/WS2ViN4zElI/AAAAAAAAE4g/3BixMQb86AoQZFLfKTmaQBE3FSklq1_twCLcB/s1600/CE9AE1B8-1A4C-4BB4-A4BA-4519C60D2EF6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mX6JKbmS-oY/WS2ViN4zElI/AAAAAAAAE4g/3BixMQb86AoQZFLfKTmaQBE3FSklq1_twCLcB/s640/CE9AE1B8-1A4C-4BB4-A4BA-4519C60D2EF6.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EvtzB40UaFs/WS2ViQWegEI/AAAAAAAAE4o/qMV1BWXJx28xmFl3N6W2d_JiQPuuitjZQCLcB/s1600/D4A47ED1-BE22-4325-B9A2-57DECFD7CD1B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EvtzB40UaFs/WS2ViQWegEI/AAAAAAAAE4o/qMV1BWXJx28xmFl3N6W2d_JiQPuuitjZQCLcB/s640/D4A47ED1-BE22-4325-B9A2-57DECFD7CD1B.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-43694500863112122912017-05-22T08:49:00.000-07:002017-05-22T08:51:43.706-07:00The tale of the staycation<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ya8hXdwj78I/WSJSbDW_uBI/AAAAAAAAE0I/jaXaD4Chr7UJArxqAPmfvBn004UhCRo5gCLcB/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ya8hXdwj78I/WSJSbDW_uBI/AAAAAAAAE0I/jaXaD4Chr7UJArxqAPmfvBn004UhCRo5gCLcB/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tim getting cash and me being, well, me.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nlmThbCEhZc/WSJSjBF3a_I/AAAAAAAAE0M/Bw0ty7wctMcRwHTzr4XlLKDxJeSKX5l7ACLcB/s640/unnamed.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="480" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It turns out the key to having a good weekend is to wear giant pineapples on your face.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nlmThbCEhZc/WSJSjBF3a_I/AAAAAAAAE0M/Bw0ty7wctMcRwHTzr4XlLKDxJeSKX5l7ACLcB/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XQ6l2qpklkE/WSJSrk5aRvI/AAAAAAAAE0Q/8Hi2hiDzF24Tv8Igm8LD5fWjvksLw8fgQCLcB/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XQ6l2qpklkE/WSJSrk5aRvI/AAAAAAAAE0Q/8Hi2hiDzF24Tv8Igm8LD5fWjvksLw8fgQCLcB/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheers. Every 4 years I have a mimosa.</td></tr></tbody></table>This weekend was one of the best weekends I've had in quite a time. After the craziness that was <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R2oodogtuIM">last week,</a> I was ready to use this weekend to recharge. Initially, the plan was to get away. Tim and I had scheduled a weekend getaway, but, at the last minute, we decided to stay local.<br /><br />And I'm glad we did.<br /><br />Exploring the state I've called "home" since I learned to talk, is my new favorite thing. &nbsp;It's a bit surreal to reside here and discover all these hidden gems scattered between zip codes. I once longed only to go beyond the Great Lakes, after all. We did downtown shopping, inhabited coffee shops, and dined-in for Mexican.<br /><br />Saturday night was the real kicker. If you're reading this and you know me well, I'm not even sure you'll believe it. We went out for drinks and dancing with my best friends. I'd just like to note we went <i>out</i>&nbsp;at 10 (pm). For someone who typically falls asleep on the couch at 9:45 watching <i>Dancing With the Stars</i>, it was almost unbelievable. But drank and danced, I did.<br /><br />And then I got up on Sunday and had a mimosa at brunch. (I mean honestly who even am I?)<br /><br />So long, stay-cation! You were just what the doctor ordered.Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-54033070002959150512017-05-16T18:32:00.000-07:002017-05-16T18:33:31.594-07:00Growing boy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-teeAob1hWLU/WRuapS3XXWI/AAAAAAAAEyM/GYRwbzYWmKQ74TrdFKcG7gitBgNuxe2GQCLcB/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-teeAob1hWLU/WRuapS3XXWI/AAAAAAAAEyM/GYRwbzYWmKQ74TrdFKcG7gitBgNuxe2GQCLcB/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />The other night, in a flurry of motion Tim and I were trying to get dinner on the table and kids in their seats. In an effort to make our dinner as tear-free as possible, I was trying to be my best, patient self as I talked Archie through sitting him down. With a click of his buckle, he lost it. <i>What could have possibly gone wrong in 3.5 seconds that warranted&nbsp;this breakdown? </i>I tried to stay cool.<br /><div><br /></div><div>And then it occurred to me. Archie is about 16-months-old and has been going through a big growth spurt lately that has yielded better listening, more personality, tantrums, and <b>independence. </b>When it was just Ella, Tim and I were both so aware and attuned to the latest spurt. I looked up and read articles on Baby Center—what-to-expect-this-month sort of a thing—and we'd work to be especially patient when she was wanting to learn something on her own. While we have picked up the rhythm of growth spurts and the signs of one approaching, we've missed a couple things Archie has begun doing and questioned the emotional roller coasters due to ... busyness, I guess. (It really is true that life turns into a zoo with two.)</div><div><br /></div><div>As I unbuckled the buckle and talked to Archie, and tried to calm him down, I remembered Ella doing the exact same thing. <b>She </b>needed to buckle her seat at the dinner table. She needed to help us take the clean spoons out of the dishwasher and put them away—another practice Archie has recently adopted. Archie is where Ella was. We've been here before.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's been hard to keep track of and gauge these different stages of development since having 2 for a variety of reasons. Archie is growing up a bit faster, since Ella is around to show him how to do so many things. Archie's personality is opposite of Ella's, so he reacts differently to some of these stages. And our life is far busier than it was when Ella was Archie's age.<br /><br />It's also been hard to softly nurture Archie through these intense growth spurts. With Ella, I had all this new parenting zeal, despite the fact that I had postpartum depression and anxiety. I was passionate about doing things <b>the right way</b>, which, to me, meant not losing my cool and instead talking her through problems. I read <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Bringing-Up-B%C3%A9b%C3%A9-Discovers-Parenting/dp/0143122967/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1494984790&amp;sr=8-1&amp;keywords=bringing+up+bebe">Bringing Up Bebe</a> and referred to <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Parenting-Love-Logic-Updated-Expanded/dp/1576839540/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1494984695&amp;sr=8-1&amp;keywords=parenting+with+love+and+logic">Parenting With Love and Logic</a> and got inspired by all these saintly mom bloggers. Nine times out of ten, I was successful, I was, but we only had one kid and I stayed at home. All of my focus could go into those practices without distraction. Now? Ella could be upset and Archie could be having a breakdown and my anxious self stands frozen in the kitchen without answers, all zeal depleted.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>We're learning to juggle. Archie now helps me buckle anything that needs buckling. We're learning to be more patient in waiting for Archie to have his little 'growth moments' instead of trying to <b>just</b>&nbsp;<b>get it done</b>—not an easy thing to accomplish with 2 running around—but it's teaching us to slow down. And it's in slowing down that we begin to gently walk him through these tough toddler times.&nbsp;</div>Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-40605931261824601972017-04-29T16:55:00.002-07:002017-05-01T09:01:46.550-07:00Goodbye Student Loans—Car or Mortgage?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ooyGEQgrKj0/WQUm-VzCDQI/AAAAAAAAExs/-jwrybA4i2Mv7mMKhfsPIhFXzl6yIDpZwCLcB/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ooyGEQgrKj0/WQUm-VzCDQI/AAAAAAAAExs/-jwrybA4i2Mv7mMKhfsPIhFXzl6yIDpZwCLcB/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Tim and I have been meaning to add another car to our family for almost a year. &nbsp;With both of us working and having kids, carpooling and accommodating growing car seats has posed its challenges over the last 10 months.<br /><br />The question we've continued to ask ourselves has been, <i>what to do? </i>Get a brand new car that's guaranteed to have a good life? Get a used car and take our chances? What about certified pre-owned? We could buy one from a rental company...<br /><br />When you're facing upwards of 50K in student debt (and climbing down the hill from 100K), buying any sort of big purchase immediately becomes more complicated. We need to remain smart and prudent while accommodating our changing circumstances and growing family. Striking that balance isn't easy.<br /><br />They say buying a brand new car is the worst purchase you can make as it begins to depreciate when you drive it off the lot, so we were unsure of committing to a high payment every month for something that will just lose value. Though finding the perfect used car on Craiglist is time-consuming—time we didn't have. So, in a bit of we-got-to-get-this-done mindset (the worst mindset to have when shelling out a wad of money) we decided on the car we wanted, found a rental place that had one, and got pre-approved for a loan.<br /><br />&nbsp;A few days before we went to seal the deal, we were talking to a family friend who is experienced in this area. &nbsp;He suggested what to look for on Craigslist, and I did some searching that weekend. We found a few contenders and decided on an '09 Dodge Journey with over 100K miles on it. &nbsp;The avid new car buyers might think we're crazy, but we did our due diligence in researching—clean title, well-maintained, all highway miles, new brakes. We were able to negotiate the price down, write a check, and drive away—no loans, no car payments and we now have the car that will serve our needs for the time being.<br /><br />We decided to put any sort of car dreams aside (buy for now, 2016 Pathfinder) and focus on a down payment for a house. For us in this stage of our lives, buying a house is our top priority—right underneath paying off our student loans, that is.<br /><br />With both Tim and I working, having a car payment every month wouldn't have killed us. &nbsp;It's for this very reason that we momentarily lost sight on our big picture goal and thought shelling out a handful of hundreds on a car payment was the right call. Just because it was doable doesn't mean it would have been the best use of our money, and it wouldn't have been. I'm happy to have had that conversation which brought us back down to earth. &nbsp;When your journey of paying down debt is years-long, it can be easy to stray the path. <i>Double incomes!? Let's buy the entire Target clearance rack! </i>It's almost easier to have less money.<br /><br />So, on our path we continue. Man, it's a damn long trail. But we've celebrated so many little victories and buying car out of pocket was a pretty big one for us. So, let the 'Journey' continue.Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-46632374973326049672017-04-10T14:46:00.000-07:002017-04-10T15:19:41.531-07:00From the weekend—75 & sunny<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QtTrDsr-Qy0/WOqz84bFWvI/AAAAAAAAEws/icxk7Ub9hmI8hEo0grrGSRxAOrbajWYSQCLcB/s1600/IMG_3130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QtTrDsr-Qy0/WOqz84bFWvI/AAAAAAAAEws/icxk7Ub9hmI8hEo0grrGSRxAOrbajWYSQCLcB/s640/IMG_3130.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />Oh, how much harder it's going to be to see Sundays fade into Mondays as the weather continues to get warmer. &nbsp;Come the weekend, I go into full-on mom and wife mode and soak in all the family time I can until duty calls once again 8AM on Monday. &nbsp;And since the weeks have been getting increasingly warmer, we've upped our park-going game (which was highly encouraged and endorsed by Ella). <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w1qLb6pHMcE/WOruGRutIRI/AAAAAAAAExI/SyBHO_Ioalwu7oKsWZzWKjon-FX3xGZgwCLcB/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w1qLb6pHMcE/WOruGRutIRI/AAAAAAAAExI/SyBHO_Ioalwu7oKsWZzWKjon-FX3xGZgwCLcB/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vhNxNo-hdow/WOqz9K6RidI/AAAAAAAAEw0/Bm_WVF7KdPEY7PAgpQaJcBZ9AcgRIKU3wCEw/s1600/IMG_3162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vhNxNo-hdow/WOqz9K6RidI/AAAAAAAAEw0/Bm_WVF7KdPEY7PAgpQaJcBZ9AcgRIKU3wCEw/s640/IMG_3162.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I've grown a newfound appreciation for Sundays over the course of Lent. &nbsp;Since the start of Lent, we've treated Sundays differently than the rest of the week. &nbsp;Not going out for coffee or having sweets throughout the week makes indulging in a nice (paid for) iced mocha and doughnut on Sundays special. &nbsp;And Sundays should feel a little more special than the other 6 days. &nbsp;If the Lord can rest, so can we.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4i8fsk4twpE/WOruRpyYlWI/AAAAAAAAExM/ZOdnrNEJ8WkEpPexwgDUN51uESJBuaImACLcB/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4i8fsk4twpE/WOruRpyYlWI/AAAAAAAAExM/ZOdnrNEJ8WkEpPexwgDUN51uESJBuaImACLcB/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>We're spinning out of the weekend and into my favorite week of the year—Holy Week. &nbsp;It seems like this is also one of the most vastly misunderstood weeks in the calendar. &nbsp;Next Sunday is Easter, but many forget the preparation that proceeds the celebration. &nbsp;It's when we understand and experience this week in its totality—Palm Sunday, Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday—that we fully appreciate and are able to joyfully celebrate what Easter Sunday brings. &nbsp;Going into this week, I have Egypt on my mind and am painfully reminded that having the opportunity to fully understand and partake in Holy Week is not something to be taken for granted.Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8687253698219420393.post-65725508661539065602017-04-05T08:53:00.000-07:002017-04-05T15:38:24.771-07:00Coming up without air <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h_8A4_TsnyM/WOQ-vdOLwhI/AAAAAAAAEwE/OavbnXKJD_kMNWgtxw1bg6AhPGpw0ztLwCLcB/s1600/IMG_2322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h_8A4_TsnyM/WOQ-vdOLwhI/AAAAAAAAEwE/OavbnXKJD_kMNWgtxw1bg6AhPGpw0ztLwCLcB/s640/IMG_2322.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />In a few months, I will have been on my anti-depressant for an entire year. <br /><br />I wish it were just a coincidence that this year has been one of the most freeing, truly enjoyable years I've ever had, but a coincidence it is not. &nbsp;I know some people go their entire lives never having found the littlest bit of relief, so I have worked above and beyond to be grateful for this year even if that's meant going out of my way, changing my attitude about a situation or not letting petty matters get to me. &nbsp;An anxiety-free life has been a gift. &nbsp;No needing to scope out where the bathrooms were in places upon entering, no nausea every time I entered a car, no uncontrollable shaking behind a steering wheel, no flaking on someone because of panic, no raging mood swings, no panicking every time I was left alone with my kids, 3AM hospital runs to Emergency, heart palpitations, panic attacks, crying fits, uncontrollable waves of sadness, freaking out I'd get food poisoning upon eating a bite of food.<br /><br />I drove across the country. &nbsp;I was interviewed by a friend I hadn't talked to in years. &nbsp;I went to a musical and sat <i>in the mezzanine. &nbsp;</i>Nine short months ago these instances would have been nothing but a pipe dream.<br /><br />I lived. &nbsp;And I lived freely.<br /><br />Anti-depressants are not for everyone, especially if your doctor rushes you on meds and your case can be remedied by a few lifestyle changes. &nbsp;My case required medicine, and when it kicked in, it felt like my paranoid, anxiety-ridden indestructible shell had been crushed, shattered, and defeated, and I could - for the first time - see and hear and smell. &nbsp;It felt like the person who I wanted to be finally crawled to the surface and could breathe. My internal dialogue reflexively went to <i>is this what living feels like?</i><br /><br />With any ailment that demands perpetual management, evaluating progress is required. &nbsp;So as I approach the one year mark, I've got a few things on my mind. &nbsp;Typically, the longer you're on an anti-depressant, the harder it is to get off. &nbsp;Taking anti-depressants is not advised while pregnant (at least the one I'm taking). &nbsp;And it's not unusual for your body to begin adapting to the medicine and it losing its effect after a while. &nbsp;For these reasons, I'm wanting to take a more comprehensive, holistic approach for management and healing, or at least head in that direction.<br /><br />I haven't found a therapist since moving out to Michigan—something I was advised to do by my Washington doctor. &nbsp;I haven't taken care of my neck and back injuries, and I'm only semi-dedicated to fitness. &nbsp;All of the above need to be taken into account while going down this next path of anxiety management. &nbsp;Anyone who is...'seasoned' in dealing with anxiety knows self-care is vital in beating the demons of anxiety. &nbsp;As a wife, mom, and employee finding that time can be hard, but when self-care equals sanity, some things on the continually-growing priority pyramid must get booted.<br /><br />I'm scared. &nbsp;When the pill bottle begins to empty and I've begun to wean off, I could go from a functioning, working, driving, playing with my kids, wife and mom to not a non-functioning, unemployed, emotionally removed, agoraphobic invalid. &nbsp;It's the scariest, most nerve-wracking decision I've faced, because I don't want to lose what I've gained. &nbsp;I hid the miseries and realities of clinical anxiety for years dating back to grade school. &nbsp;To have known what it feels like to live without the daily and and often raging symptoms of anxiety has been eye-opening in the most heartbreaking and relieving kind of way. &nbsp;I'm not prepared to go back.<br /><br />There is always the possibility of me needing to be on some sort of medicine for management indefinitely. &nbsp;With mental illness in the family, this fate could already be written in the stars for me. And if that's the case, let God's will be done. &nbsp; <br /><br />It's a hell of a process, though, to begin to wean off and to make sure my body and mind is in a state that can cope sans drugs—vitamin cocktails, regimented workouts, designated "me time", breathing exercises, yoga, therapy. &nbsp;Here we go. &nbsp;I've never been skydiving, but I imagine this is what nearing the edge of the plane door feels like.<br /><br />Here's to hoping for a smooth landing.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">For more:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nEfk4pTV1-k&amp;t=614s">My Anxiety and Depression Story</a></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="https://kelochner.blogspot.com/2015/02/three-ways-to-limit-anxiety.html">3 Ways to Limit Anxiety</a></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="https://kelochner.blogspot.com/2015/03/what-ive-learned-wednesday-on-thursday.html">On Wishing Anxiety Away</a></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="https://kelochner.blogspot.com/2015/02/friendships-and-anxiety.html">Friendships and Anxiety</a></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="https://kelochner.blogspot.com/2016/06/is-this-normal.html">Is This Normal?</a></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="https://kelochner.blogspot.com/2016/12/keep-moving-stay-hopeful.html">Keep Moving, Stay Hopeful</a></i></span></div>Kate Lochnerhttps://plus.google.com/113132574617599108690noreply@blogger.com0